


A Cottage in the South Downs Gets a Little Stranger

by PorterBailey



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Accidental Baby Acquisition, Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Doorstep Baby, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, I couldn't force myself to write mpreg, M/M, the second coming - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-01
Updated: 2019-07-30
Packaged: 2020-05-31 14:10:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19427566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PorterBailey/pseuds/PorterBailey
Summary: Having become a rather boring and domesticated couple, Crowley and Aziraphale are amazed to receive a surprise delivery in the middle of the night. One that seems like it will change things.





	1. The Arrival

Crowley was completely spread out, his head resting in Aziraphale’s lap, completely unconscious. Aside from a bit of snoring and slight shifting, he was practically in a coma. He’d had far too much wine. Aziraphale didn’t mind. It was almost midnight on the dot, and the angel was buried in a silly mystery novel, one of the many trade paperbacks that sold millions of copies but wasn’t exactly what he might call profound. He felt quite cozy curled up on their sofa like this, wearing his favorite pair of silk pajamas, burning the midnight oil. It was all so domestic. 

An impish part of him was tempted to “accidentally” drop the book on the demon’s face. He fought said urge and petted Crowley’s hair instead. The demon reached up, half asleep, and bit Aziraphale’s hand.

“Ow…”

“Love bite,” Crowley said, smirking. 

“You old serpent…” The angel frowned, adjusting his glasses. 

“S’itgood?” He lightly smacked the book. 

“As good as it could be, I suppose. Bed? It’s late.”

“Oh, you won’t sleep.”

It was true. Crowley enjoyed sleep far more than most immortal beings. That included the angel he lived with. 

He frowned, “I would if you wanted me to.”

“Nah. Couch is much more comfortable. Why do we even own a bed?” 

“You tell me. It came from your apartment. I certainly wouldn’t own one.” 

“Yeah. No. You’d have filled the master bedroom with books,” he rolled his yellow eyes. 

“You should know me by now. Certainly after 6,000 years,” Aziraphale scoffed. 

“Angel, I’m amazed there’s walking space in this house.” 

It was true. There were piles of reading material everywhere, most accumulating dust, not having been touched since the move. 

“And  _ who  _ said we owned enough shelves?”

“WHO said HE was going to purge before the move?” 

The angel drew the book closer to his face. Aziraphale was doing what he always did when put on the spot; pretend Crowley hadn’t said anything. The demon sighed and raised himself from the couch. He sauntered into the adjacent kitchen and fished a bottle of wine and a glass out of the cabinets.

“Want more?”

“Can’t believe you do,” Aziraphale paused, “is it the good stuff?”

Crowley squinted at the label, “No.”

The angel waved him off and turned his attention back to the book. 

Crowley downed the first glass of wine. “Ya know, for someone who claims to hate those mystery novels, you seem to be quite invested, luv.”

Zira scowled from the sofa, and opened his mouth to respond, but was interrupted by the gentlest knock he’d ever heard in his immortal life. He was at least slightly pleased to see that Crowley looked just as confused as he was. If he knew the demon, and he did, he was trying to think of how much wine he’d had that night. 

“You heard that too, right?” 

“What time is it? Last I checked it was-”

“Midnight exactly,” Crowley squinted at the clock. 

“Knocking at this hour, somebody must-”

“Want a beating.” the demon growled.

“…need help, Crowley,” Aziraphale sighed. The angel bookmarked his page and walked to the door. 

“Wait! One second!” 

Crowley dashed from the room and came back, swinging something from hand to hand.

Aziraphale stared at him, baffled. “A bat?!”

“Can’t be too careful!” 

“You’re a demon!”

“An out of practice one, Angel! You’ve domesticated me.”

“Just don’t whack the first thing you see. I don’t want to have to miracle someone out of a coma!” 

Crowley stood in a shaky batter’s stance and nodded a “it’s go time” to Aziraphale, who just sighed and flipped the porch light on. Even so, the angel appeared hesitant as he creaked the front door open. He poked his head outside. 

“Hmm…”

“What? What is it?!” Crowley near screamed. 

“Whoever it was is gone. Practically evaporated.”

“No one?”

“No. Seems they left something, though.” 

He bent down and picked up a small basket, a bit weightier than he expected, and shut the door behind him. Crowley lowered the bat, looking a mix between relieved and disappointed. 

“The Heaven is that?” The demon scoffed.

“Last I checked, Crowley, I’m not clairvoyant!” 

Crowley didn’t take the snapping personally; Zira always got cranky when his reading was interrupted. 

“Order anything?”

“Online shopping is your thing. Besides, what mailing service delivers in the middle of the night?”

“One with damn prompt shipping?”

Aziraphale practically shoved the basket at Crowley. “I want to finish my book.”

“Yeah. Right. Fine. Should we open it at least?”

“I don’t think it’s ours to do with. There’s clearly been some mistake of address,” the angel said, returning to the couch and his book.

“Mistake of addr- we’re the only house around for miles!”

“Do with it what you wish,” Aziraphale said, waving him off as he replaced his reading glasses.

Crowley eyed the basket suspiciously. He wandered back into the kitchen, placing the mystery package on the counter and retrieving his wine glass. He continued to examine the thing, taking large swallows of alcohol as he did. He had a funny feeling about the whole thing, like it was somehow eerily similar to something that had happened to him before. In his haze, he noticed a small slip of paper tied to the handle. Aha! A clue. He plucked it off.

“Huh. Must be for you,” Crowley said. The angel didn’t even lift his head, so the demon continued. “S’got your name on it.”

“What?” Aziraphale almost laughed.

“Not in English, though.”

“And why, praytell, would I order something from abroad?”

“Not abroad, above.”

Crowley flicked the card around in his fingers, and Aziraphale immediately recognized the archaic symbol that represented his name and, strangely enough, his title as a Principality. Crowley noticed a crease in the card, and opened it to find more angelic writing, not that he could read it. He’d trained himself to recognize the angel’s name, but being a demon, couldn’t actually read Heaven’s language. When he’d become fallen, the knowledge of the angelic language had been erased from his head. 

“There’s more, but,” Crowley shrugged. “Have you been talking to-?” The demon gestured upstairs.

“Oh please,” he said, but couldn’t hide his newfound curiosity. Why would anyone from Her domain send him anything? He hadn’t had contact with headquarters in ages. Not since the apocalypse fell through. 

“It’s not mine to go through, then. Your basket, not mine.”

“Never stopped you when I order my books.”

“Thas different. Those are from eBay, not from...Her.”

Crowley dropped the card, raised his hands and backed away from the counter, as though the basket might spontaneously combust if he touched it further. Aziraphale groaned in exhasperation. He would have been more than happy to ignore the basket until a later time, but now he was afraid of being smited if he did. For all he knew, She was watching him right that very moment. He felt a strange prickle on the back of his neck at the thought of being observed by the higher ups. And the last thing he needed was the inconvenience of being discorporated, and he certainly wouldn’t wish it on anyone else. Especially Crowley.

He bookmarked the garbage mystery novel again and joined the demon in the kitchen. The angel snatched the card off the counter and looked it over. 

“To Aziraphale, Angel of Principality. Don’t-” he paused, unsure if he was reading it right. “Don’t blow it.”

“Don’t blow what? The Heaven is all this?” Crowley grumbled.

“Only one way to find out...” 

Aziraphale smiled his pattented nervous smile, and peeled back the lid. He was suddenly overcome with feelings of deep unbridled feelings of...love. Love in its purest form. The most he’d ever felt ever that didn’t come from inside himself. Without being given any more information, he knew exactly what was going on. 

“Oh...HELL!” Aziraphale spat. “No! No, no, no, no, no! Not this! Not now!”

Crowley observed all this from his lean against the wall, watching as the angel’s swift emotional transformation. The demon itched to see the basket’s contents, but waited with manufactured patience. Crowley was vibrating with curiosity. 

“What’d they send you?” He asked cooly. 

The angel didn’t respond, and appeared to be shaking. In anger or fear, it wasn’t apparent. The demon stopped idling and walked over for a look. He nearly shoved Aziraphale aside, though he wouldn’t have really done it, or not very hard, and stared into the basket. His yellow eyes widened.

“Oh...”

“Oh, indeed.”

Inside the basket lay a small, pink cheeked, brown haired baby. It looked barely hours old. It slept soundly, a bubble of spit at the corner of its mouth.

Crowley looked up and scrutinized his partner.

“Right. So. Why would the higher-ups send you a human baby?”

Aziraphale stared at Crowley like he’d just said the baby was a tomato. 

“It’s not human! Can’t you tell?”

The demon looked at the child again, but it looked exactly the same. Fleshy and mortal. He shrugged at the angel helplessly. 

“It’s...the prophesized one,” he sighed, seeming more distressed than amazed.

“We already have an Antichrist. I should know. You should too, you we’re there.”

“Why would an Antichrist come from Heaven?” 

“Unless it’s a trick. And this is the second one after we messed up with the first one.”

Aziraphale considered this for approximately a miliscond. “Crowley, Hell can’t write in Her language.”

Crowley paused. “Sorry. S’pose I’m still a little...wined.” 

“Crowley, don’t you understand? This is the ANTI-Antichrist! It’s the second coming!” 

The angel had a deep urge to strangle his tipsy partner. The demon tried to get his brain to work without sobering up. He liked the comfortably warm feeling of being pissed. 

“How can you tell that?” Crowley asked stupidly.

“How...you can’t feel it? It’s eminating quite a powerful...aura, I suppose. Not sure what I’d call it.” 

“Must be an angel thing,” Crowley said, almost ruefully. “So what’re you going to do with it?”

Aziraphale had taken to pacing anxiously around their living room, something he was very good at, and eyeing the basket every couple of seconds. The alleged child of God continued to snooze. 

“Why me?” The angel muttered to himself. “What did I do? What SHOULD I do? Adam was raised by humans, am I supposed to take it somewhere?” He snapped his head up at Crowley, who was staring drunkenly at the basket, seemingly trying to process everything. “I need your cooperation! Sober up for five seconds, please!”

Crowley nodded, rather reluctantly, and cringed as the several glasses of wine left his system. He groaned and cracked his neck.

“Well, when they gave me the Antichrist,” said Crowley, “they also gave me a prophetic vision. And the headache that goes with it. Get anything like that?”

He huffed, “Just the feeling of...awe, or whatever it was. The knowledge that He is who He is.”

“Aright, so the second coming of Christ is in our kitchen. Now what?”

“But why me? Why us? Why now? I am the least qualified angel for this.”

“Well, She doesn’t think so. And you aren’t one to argue with the Ineffable Plan, are you?” 

Oh, the bloody Ineffable Plan. Aziraphale growled at the demon. The only thing the angel knew in that moment was that he WANTED to argue with the so called Plan. He was in no way fit to be tasked with such an important...task. He’d scrub all the toilets in headquarters*, or...anything, really, if he didn’t have to be saddled with the second coming.

And just when things had become peaceful and boring. 

_ *Like all immortal creatures, Angels don’t have a need to eat, digest, and thus, to defecate. And even if angels eat for the pleasure of eating, the food just sort of disappears. Toilets in Heaven should be rendered useless. And they are. Except for very cruel forms of punishment. And thus, for this reason alone, Heaven’s toilets are the dirtiest in the known universe. Gas stations would die of envy.  _

_ **And if you must know, demons work on the same level. So Aziraphale and Crowley use their one bathroom to hold a variety of specialized indoor plants. Or to be used for the occasional bubble bath.  _


	2. The Panic

Aziraphale buried his face in his hands. He thought, foolishly, if he ignored the situation long enough, the basket and its contents would vanish from his kitchen. He glanced up after what felt like several minutes. The basket was still there, and Crowley looked slightly more impatient. 

“Oh Hell…” Aziraphale groaned. 

“Trying to pray it away?”

The angel considered this, “It’s not a terrible suggestion.”

Crowley sighed and sat down next to his partner. “We can’t just ignore it. Longer we do, the more annoyed She might get.” 

“It’s not an ‘it’, Crowley,” he said, “HE is a…demigod, I suppose.”

“How Greek of you,” Crowley smirked. 

“Look, I’m sorry if we don’t have a word for it! Point is, I’m trying to come up with a solution, and you’re not helping!” 

“Cause it’s YOUR basket, not mine, angel! Got your name on it!”

“Surely by accident. There’s been a mix-up,” Aziraphale said decidedly, “I’m calling the Metatron.” 

“At this hour?”

“Heaven doesn’t have a concept of time.”

“Well I do,” Crowley muttered, dying to go back to sleep. 

Just as Aziraphale reached the counter to grab the basket, the child began screeching, and he jumped back in terror. 

“What did I do?!” 

“Probably nothing,” the demon said calmly, “he’s hungry. Or needs a fresh nappy.” 

Aziraphale’s initially panicked look turned to one of realization. “YOU were a nanny; you deal with it!”

He pushed an annoyed Crowley towards the basket.

“Hang on! Two things. One, Warlock was five when we moved in. So, none of...THAT was involved. Two, how do we even know I can touch this powerful kid without bursting into flames or being discorporated or something?”

Aziraphale considered this for a brief moment, trying to think through the loud crying of the infant. He sighed and massaged his temples. The angel finally approached the basket and, rather reluctantly, removed the screaming newborn from the basket. He held the baby at arms-length, the babe’s blanket slowly sliding off from not being swaddled tightly enough, completely frozen by anxiety.

“Now what?” Aziraphale squeaked.

“Support the head. Newborns don’t have the neck muscles.” 

“Erm…how should I…?” 

“For Heaven’s sake, angel!” 

Frustrated by the noise and the apparent incompetence of his partner, Crowley plucked the child from the angel’s hands and held it against his shoulder. They both waited nervously for something bad to happen to Crowley or the baby, but aside from the prolonged crying, they both looked fine. After hastily adjusting the blanket, the demon snapped his fingers and a bottle appeared from thin air. Which the child of God, when offered the nipple, began sucking on greedily. They both sighed, relieved by the return of silence. Aziraphale watched, trying to learn, feeling rather sheepish. 

“Babies aren’t as fragile as they seem. Treating them as such can often result in more damage,” Crowley said.

“You said yourself, Warlock was five when we moved in. How do you know all this?” 

Now it was the demon’s turn to look embarrassed. “I read a few books beforehand.”

“You READ things? YOU?” 

“Shaddup. Didn’t need the stuff anyway. The kid was always rather self-sufficient,” the demon shrugged. 

“He was indeed, the little devil,” the angel smiled fondly. “We made good Godparents, though.”

It was no secret that they were both almost disappointed when they’d found out Warlock wasn’t the real Antichrist. After spending all that time with him, how could they not have grown attached? The times with Adam had been lovely, of course, but he was a different child. Even more self sufficient than Warlock had been, mostly due to his age. After the “apocalypse” came and went, Adam didn’t have much need for Godfathers anymore. Especially once everything had settled down and the demonic side of him had seemed to disappear. It was hard to not feel slightly tossed aside, but they tried to remember that he was just a kid, and didn’t know them from, well, “from Adam.” 

“I was always secretly happy when it was you who had to deal with the tantrums,” the angel said. 

“It wasn’t a secret,” Crowley said, “You’d practically run in the other direction the minute the kid started screaming.” 

“Can’t say it’s not still an ingrained reaction,” Aziraphale frowned. “I…panic a little.” 

“If this child is staying,” he said, nodding to the infant, “you’ll have to fight that urge.”

Aziraphale cleared his throat and straightened up. “It’s not staying. I’m going to contact the Metatron this instant.”

Crowley tried to hide his disappointment. “I’ll, er, put him back in the basket, then.”

Now Aziraphale was trying to hide his guilt, “Not immediately. If the child’s content, don’t want to rock the boat, I suppose.” 

He started leaving the room before Crowley called after him, “Angel!”

“Yes?”

“Pajamas.” 

“Ah. Thank you.”

The angel snapped his fingers and was suddenly wearing his usual light beige suit. Aziraphale scurried to the back room, which was a 50/50 split of arboretum and library*, and shut the door behind him. He hastily gathered up the candles and chalk and set to work.

\----------------------------------------------------

Crowley was settled on the couch, happy to still be in his boxers and, very faded, Queen t-shirt. If he could live in his pajamas, he would have. The basket-infant was still cradled against his chest. He was playing it cool with Aziraphale regarding the whole baby thing; admittedly, he missed having a kid to look after. Crowley was softer than he seemed; he was already in love. The demon was attempting to come to terms with the fact that the child would probably be gone tomorrow. 

“It was nice for the hour or so you were here,” he sighed, looking at the kid. “I like a little chaos every now and then. It’s a demon thing. Don’t tell the angel.” 

The baby sucked its fist impassively. 

“Wonder what Heavenly Mother had planned with this. With him and you. She knows, more than anyone, how badly the apocalypse turned out,” Crowley smirked to himself, “Maybe She wants him to muck this up. Maybe it’s all reverse psychology. I think your Mum has a wicked sense of humor.”

After emptying the entirety of the bottle, the baby was having a hard time keeping its eyes open. Before he would let the kid snooze, Crowley decided to do a nappy check, lest it wake back up and start howling again. It was clean, as the demon hoped, but another interesting realization came from this check. A broad smile snaked over his face.

“A wicked sense of humor, indeed,” Crowley cackled. 

Aziraphale shuffled back into the room, looking rather solemn. Crowley’s smile fell at the sight of him.

“How’d it go?” The demon asked. 

“Badly. The Metatron wouldn’t say anything, nor would they let me return the baby through the portal, seeing as he’s half human and could get hurt, but there’s definitely a bigger plan at work here.”

“Right, so, about that,” Crowley coughed. 

“About what?”

“The baby’s a girl.” 

Aziraphale squeezed the bridge of his nose, “Please tell me you didn’t just say-”

“Jesus Christo, here,” the demon continued, pronouncing it “hey-soos,” “is female. Sex wise, at least. She is of course free to make whatever gender choices she wants at a later date.” 

Crowley grinned like he was extremely amused about the whole situation, which he was. Aziraphale was still trying to process this new information, and had a grimace plastered under his nose.

“Regardless,” he sighed, “the baby IS the child of God. I remember how I felt around Jesus all those years before. I haven’t felt it since. Until now.”

“Oh I don’t doubt it. And I’m sure her Mother is tickled pink about all of this. This was purposeful. I assure you.”

“Yes, but why?”

Crowley considered the question. “For starters, you’re the only angel actively living on Earth at the moment.”

“Yes, but the child’s first incarnation was raised by humans.”

“And look how that turned out. Say this one starts walking on water or reanimating the dead before she says any first words? Any human guardian would have a heart attack, especially in this day and age. Humans can’t process the ethereal without thinking they’re going crackers or stoning something to death. But the child has to live on Earth, so...it’s a loophole.”

Aziraphale paused, not knowing how to say that he’d rather have gently placed the child back in the basket, dropped it at the gates of Heaven, and washed his hands of it. But something about the dewy look in Crowley’s eyes told him that’d be the wrong thing to say. He knew it all sounded rather cold for his usually warm nature, but he hadn’t meant to feel so bitterly about the situation. But this was the  _ child of God.  _ There wasn’t any conceivable way he could rear such an important person and have it not go horribly awry and end in disaster for all involved. 

Almost like reading his mind, Crowley said, “Have you considered keeping her? At all?”

The angel’s words caught in his throat. “I can’t see how it wouldn’t end badly,” he said, “I’d surely muck it up royally, and I’d drag someone else down with me.” 

“Right,” Crowley sighed, looking at the sleeping infant. “S’pose I’ll put her back then.”

The demon stood from the sofa, still cradling the baby, and walked to the kitchen. 

“Listen, it...” Aziraphale hesitated, “it may be awhile before we can get this all sorted. Perhaps, for tonight, she might have a proper bed?” 

Crowley didn’t want to risk hesitating, thinking his husband might change his mind back in another instant, so he quickly snapped a small bassinet into existence. Aziraphale eyed it skeptically. It was black and covered in rather sharp looking bones. Complete with a mobile of broken glass. The angel tried to hide a grimace. Very unsuccessfully. 

“What? Too Hellish?” Crowley asked.

“Perhaps something...gentler?”

Crowley sighed inwardly, and changed the dark and gothic bedding to one of a soft yellowish hue. It looked so...human. 

“Better. Thank you.”

“Whatever you like, angel. You’re the one who’ll be up at three am when she starts howling.” Crowley grinned impishly. 

_ *It was truly more 70/30, in favor of Aziraphale. Crowley had a bigger outdoor garden, so he didn’t complain.  _


	3. The Naming

Crowley was jostled out of a particularly nice dream, one in which he was in snake form, lazing in the hot sun, by a rather panicked Aziraphale. 

“Wuzzit?” Crowley slurred.

“She won’t. Stop. Crying.” Angels might have had boundless energy, but a strangely limited patience. True to his word, the child in his shaking arms continued to wail unheeded. 

“Yeah. Babies cry.” Crowley massaged his temples. This wasn’t how he planned on spending his years after Armageddon*. “Won’t take a bottle?”

“Not the slightest interest.”

“Nappy?”

“Changed it not an hour ago.”

Crowley tried to wake further. “Just…miracle her to sleep.”

“I’ve tried, believe me! She’s…immune to me, somehow. I can’t fathom why.” 

Aziraphale collapsed on the side of the bed, looking absolutely defeated. The angel continued to bounce the screeching child despite himself. 

“She might be more powerful than you,” Crowley speculated, “Being Her child, and all.”

Aziraphale was barely registering what his husband was saying. If angels could have headaches, he’d have a pounding one. 

“Take her. Please.” 

Crowley eyed the angel pityingly. He pushed himself to the edge of the bed, next to his partner, and took the squalling child. He noted, amusedly, that she wore a soft yellow onesie. 

“Where’d she get this, I wonder?” 

Aziraphale shrugged, “She looked cold in just the nappy, so…” 

“No, it’s cute. Yellow seems to be her color. At least she’ll be wearing something nice when she…gets sent back.”

Aziraphale looked at the floor, unresponsive. 

“Poor thing must be colicky.” 

Trying to remember what he’d read in those books so many years prior, the demon lay the child on her stomach and rubbed her back. The angel didn’t look up, even as the babe’s cries began to quell. After a few more hiccups, the baby fell into a deep sleep. 

“I’m afraid I’m no good at this baby stuff,” the angel mumbled. 

“Ah, you’ll get it. Takes practice. Don’t be so hard on yourself.” 

“What if I can’t ‘get it?’ I’ve been on this planet for thousands of years; I should certainly know how to handle a baby. Even if it is a demigod,” Aziraphale wrung his hands. “If this is supposed to be a test, what if I fail and She…kicks me out?”

Crowley frowned. “If She didn’t sack you for ruining the apocalypse, maybe there’s not much more sacrilegious you could do in Her eyes. Besides, being fallen isn’t the worst thing in the world.”

“I’m sure it isn’t, but I’m not sure I’m willing to risk it,” the angel sighed.

“Say She throws you out for just returning the kid? What then?” Crowley offered.

Aziraphale paled slightly. He hadn’t considered that. “Could She?”

“Failing to comply with the Ineffable Plan,” the demon continued, “I mean, maybe.”

The angel groaned, pressing his forehead into his palms. He could barely process all that was happening. Which was hardly surprising to him, considering the night he’d already had. 

“What did you know about...him?” Aziraphale asked. “You did know him. At least more than I did.” 

“Who…oh. Yeah, I knew the bloke. Sort of. Sent to tempt him, all that. Never cracked, as you can imagine.”

“What was he like?”

“He was,” Crowley paused, his brow furrowing. “He was kind. Really decent. Know how some humans are nice but have all these ulterior motives? Not him. Never had that feeling round him. Almost felt bad having to tempt the chap.”

“How old was he...when they...?” A lump caught in the angel’s throat, if such a thing was possible. The whole crucifixion was horrifying to bear witness to, and even thousands of years later, Aziraphale felt uncomfortable around crosses of any kind. Even if they were, at the very least, part of his job.

“Mid-thirties? Something like that,” Crowley said, then added, “Should brush up on your reading, angel.”

“Aren’t you worried that history might repeat itself?” 

“Might happen. Just how the world works. Maybe not in the exact same way, not the public execution, of course, but something else.”

“That’s awful!”

“Look, I’m not saying it WILL happen, I’m saying it could. Humans are so cyclical!” 

“And how could I possibly handle that?” 

Crowley paused, squinting, “I’m not following.”

“If I can’t manage a squalling infant, how on earth could I ever cope when shi-...when it really hits the fan.” 

“So you DO want to keep-,”

“I’m not saying that! It’s more...if I WERE to, how would I-,” the angel sighed. “How would I keep her safe?”

“You keep saying ‘I,’ like you’re completely alone in this. There’s more than one being living under this roof.”

“What if She didn’t mean for you to help? What if She doesn’t know that we’re together?”

“Oh please! Either She knows everything or She doesn’t. Can’t be both.”

“We have been rather quiet about the whole situation.”

“Angel, She’s omnipotent. She can see EVERYTHING.”

Aziraphale blushed at the thought of this, though he knew Crowley was correct in that assessment. 

“I CAN help,” the demon said, “If that’s what you’re worried about.”

“I’m worried about a lot of things, my pet,” Aziraphale said softly.

Crowley leaned over and kissed the angel’s forehead. He placed the sleeping child against his shoulder and shuffled tiredly out of the room. As he walked into the living room, to get the child settled back in her bassinet, he speculated where they might add on the nursery, so it didn’t look too suspicious. Though, Crowley thought, the house was so isolated, he doubted anyone would ever notice if the cottage miraculously evolved into having 3 bedrooms. 

“Better than you sleeping by the telly for eighteen years,” Crowley mumbled to the drooling, snoozing infant. 

After watching the child for a moment, Crowley eyed the clock on the wall, and, seeing that it was approximately 5AM, decided to have some tea. As the kettle boiled, Aziraphale joined the demon.

“Cuppa?”

“Might as well,” the angel said, rubbing his eyes. 

Crowley poured the tea, and sat across from Aziraphale in silence. Neither being touched their drink. 

Finally, the angel spoke. “You think it silly of me, having this much hesitation.”

Crowley shook his head, “You had a lot of good points. Though I’m not really sure how much or how little would be changed if she were raised by mortals.” 

“But...mortals age. We don’t. We’d outlive her,” he said, almost sadly. 

“We outlive everyone, angel. That’s life,” Crowley said, though the thought did depress him a bit. 

“It’s painful, watching humans you care about wasting away in front of you.” The angel was almost talking to himself at this point. 

“Take some amount of comfort that she IS the child of God. She’ll go upstairs when the time comes,” the demon said, then smirked and added, “And we’d get visiting rights, surely.” 

Aziraphale stared into his mug, wearing the expression of a man just given the hardest trivia question in the world. Crowley decided to do as he did best; keep talking. 

“We don’t live entirely like immortals. I sleep, you eat. Wouldn’t be hard to form some kind of domestic routine. Could try it for a bit, living with the kid. If it doesn’t work out, it doesn’t work out.” 

“Seems worse, don’t you think? Like test-running a defective product,” Aziraphale scowled. But his expression softened. “Perhaps she might stay for a little while. I could attempt to gather more information on the situation. It may be easier to learn more about her if she remains in our care. Oh, don’t look so damn pleased!” 

Crowley suffocated his grin with his fist. “She needs a name. Can’t just call her ‘the baby’ for...the time she’s here.” 

“I suppose,” Aziraphale pondered this, “Mary’s a tad derivative. Grace might be nice. Certainly should be biblical.” 

Crowley coughed-laughed into his hand. “Lilith.” 

The angel sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, “Did you really just suggest-?”

“It’s biblical. That’s the criteria, innit?” 

“Didn’t Lilith steal your thunder with the apple bit?” 

“Eh, she had a bad row. Adam was a prick. I don’t blame her for wanting a bit of credit down there after the falling out with your lot.”

“I didn’t have a hand in that. She seemed rather nice, if not a little bitter with God.”

“I know that feeling…” the demon muttered.

“Regardless, we can’t name the baby something that unusual. We’re trying to avoid speculation, not attract it.” 

“We could shorten it. Lily.” 

Aziraphale considered the suggestion. It wasn’t exactly biblical in the strictest sense. But it was short, inconspicuous, and got the job done. He glanced back at the bassinet sitting in their living room. 

“Lily will have to do,” Aziraphale said, almost reluctantly. 

Crowley continued to look damn pleased with himself. “So, seeing as I sleep at night, I’ll do most of the daytime stuff, and you handle her at night.” 

“Night? That’s when I do my best reading,” the angel grumbled.

“If this is going to work, we’ll have to make sacrifices,” the demon said, a bit more firmly. 

“Right. Well,” Aziraphale eyed the clock on the oven, “technically, it IS morning, so...have fun, dear.” 

Aziraphale gave a quick, patronizing pat to Crowley’s hand, then scurried away from the table with his tea.

“Where you off to?”

“Research. I’ll be in the office.”

Crowley heard the door in the hallway shut abruptly, and he eased his guard down. He was smiling like a maniac, not believing his luck at actually talking the angel into all this. So he wasn’t totally out of practice, temptation wise. The demon left his untouched tea on the table and crept past the office door. Coming to the end of the hall, he placed his hand against the wall and concentrated. A door sprouted where the wall was once blank. After another brief moment, Crowley opened the new door, checking to see if the contents of the room were all present and correct. The cottage now had its nursery, softly painted, sparsely decorated. Rather cozy, if Crowley did say so himself. He turned to fetch its inhabitant. But as he reentered the living room, his eyes widened at a rather unusual sight. Had he been wearing his sunglasses, they would have probably fallen off in sheer surprise. 

“Huh. Well, there’s something you don’t see everyday.” 

_ *Truthfully, Crowley had envisioned having children of some kind with Aziraphale, but he figured there’d be a lot of planning and talking involved beforehand, mainly regarding where they might come from. Whether they would decide to adopt or “make an effort.” The acquisition of this baby was all a little too sudden for his liking, but he was smitten all the same.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do think I want to continue this, for the most part, but I'm not sure when I'll add things. Sorry for the cliffhanger.


	4. The Toy

Crowley knocked firmly on the wood of the office door. “Angel? I need a word.”

“Oh for God’s sake, Crowley! I just got settled. Haven’t even touched my tea. Whatever the baby is doing, I’m sure you can handle it.” Aziraphale called from behind the door. 

“Yeah. Erm. About that.” 

“Don’t tell me you’ve lost her already. She’s an infant! Though not the first time you’ve lost an infant put in your care.”

Crowley sighed, “Going to ignore that. You just need to see this one for yourself.”

Aziraphale sensed an apprehension in his voice. He clapped shut the religious text sprawled in his lap, slid his glasses off, and set aside his tea. He threw the door open, scowling at Crowley, who was busy tapping his foot anxiously. 

“Well?!”

Crowley gripped the angel’s shoulder and led him to the living room. Aziraphale’s mouth dropped open. 

“Oh…” he managed. It was all he could say. 

“Yeah. Humans don’t usually do that, right?”

The angel and the demon were currently staring down, not a newborn infant, but a full-fledged toddler, sitting up in her bassinet and smiling like she had a secret. To a lesser surprise, the onesie she was wearing had miraculously grown with her, and still fit like a glove. 

“Is it even the same child?”

“Same child- what would they bloody do with the other one?!”

“You didn’t see this happen?”

“I left the room for five seconds! I know they say don’t leave a baby alone, but this wasn’t exactly what I expected!”

Aziraphale felt like the wind had been knocked out of him. The Second-Coming was one thing, but a rapidly aging one was another thing entirely.

“Ohh, I don’t think I can cope with this.” 

“I think you’ll need to get over that. No way she can live with mortals if she’s going to do...that.”

“That’s what we get for naming her Lilith! It’s a punishment.”

“Oh, be serious! We could’ve named her Karen with the same results. Why else would she be given to an angel? It was purposeful.” 

Aziraphale continued to stare at the baby-turned-toddler in confusion and shock. 

“Jesus didn’t do that, right?” Crowley asked.

“I certainly wasn’t around when he was raised, but I’ll assume he did not.”

Aziraphale nervously approached the child, as though she might go off like a bomb. She burbled happily, stretching her arms out towards him. When the angel didn’t do anything, she shakily got to her feet, gripping one of the angel’s sleeves for stability. 

“That’s new... the standing bit…” 

“Aw, she likes you!” Crowley mused. 

“It would seem that were the case,” Aziraphale said stiffly. “Regardless, it’s definitely the same child. I get the same feeling from her as I did last night.”

“Pure panic?” The demon smirked.

“You know what I mean!”

Aziraphale turned back to the child, who had a river of saliva running down her chin. He plucked a handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed her face, trying to hide his disgust as he did so. 

“See? Not as bad at this as you think.”

Aziraphale ignored him. “Do you think she’s going to grow again anytime soon?”

“Dunno. I’m certainly not buying her any real clothes until we figure it out.”

“I wonder if she can walk,” Aziraphale muttered, and placed Lily on the living room floor. 

She didn’t just walk, she ran. Stumbling, she quickly toddled out of the living room and, as the angel and demon observed, into the nursery. 

“Well that answers that,” Crowley said. “We’ll have her toilet trained and curing the plagued in no time!”

Aziraphale grimaced at the comment. But he had to admit that Crowley had a point. If she could already walk, what else could she do? Could she perform miracles? Heal the blind or the lame? The angel privately hoped she couldn’t, not until she was old enough to use her powers wisely.

“Listen, when did Adam get his powers?”

Crowley shrugged. “Didn’t raise him, but I think Hell expected him to be killing virgins as young as four. The real stuff came with the hellhound, or it was supposed to.”

“Lovely,” Aziraphale sighed. “Suppose we shouldn’t leave her alone.”

They joined the toddler in her room. Aziraphale was looking at everything for the first time, and he had to admit, Crowley had done a decent job. The walls were light grey, and most of the furniture was white, which included a crib, changing table, rocking chair, and toy chest. It might have been a tad monochromatic for the angel’s tastes, but it certainly served its purpose. 

“It’s a little sparse,” he said. “But it’s...nice. Could do with a bit of color.”

“I formed it in under a minute. Cut me some slack. Needed a nursery, made one.”

Lily sat on the rug, playing with a large stuffed snake she’d dragged out of the chest. It looked a little like Crowley himself, which was less than surprising to the angel. Crowley beamed, Aziraphale continued to look rather apprehensive. She began gnawing on the creature’s head, making the demon wince. 

“Well, at least she seems content,” the angel said. “Not sure we should leave her alone again anytime soon.”

The demon frowned, “It was five seconds! I turned away for five measly seconds! I certainly didn’t know she planned aging a few months while I was gone!”

“But perhaps even that short of a time is too long.” 

“Are you saying we can’t even blink around her?”

Aziraphale was about to continue the conversation when he was interrupted by a low hissing. 

He cast his eyes at Crowley, who immediately said defensively, “Don’t look at me!” 

They looked down at the toddler. Lily had dropped the toy, which was now quickly transforming into a living, breathing snake, much to the horror of her fathers. She giggled and clapped with glee, like it was all a grand joke. It slithered around her legs. 

“Grab her!” the angel cried,“Oh LORD! Is it venomous?!” 

“How the bloody hell should I know?!” Crowley said, snatching the toddler off the ground as though saving her from a pit of lava. “It was stuffed until recently!” 

The snake eyed them, placidly flicking its tongue. Lily shrieked in delight. Her parents were paralized. 

“How did she-?!”

“Do something, angel!”

“Right!” 

Aziraphale fumbled at first, then hastily snapped his fingers and the large snake dissolved into nothingness. They breathed sighs of relief. Lily whimpered at the loss of her new friend, stretching her hands out to the empty space. 

“She can animate the inanimate. Lovely,” the angel groaned. 

“Kind of impressive, really,” Crowley muttered, “Talented little thing, ain’t she!” 

“It HAD to be a snake! Couldn’t have given her something less deadly? A duck?”

“Scuze me! I didn’t know it’d be coming to life! At least I didn’t make her a stuffed BEAR!” 

Aziraphale kept trying to process all that had just happened, to very little success. The child had been in their home for less than twenty-four hours, and she could already walk and bring toys to life. Aside from the initial shock of the snake, Crowley just seemed amused by the whole ordeal. 

Crowley softened, “She didn’t get hurt, luv. It’s okay. We just have to monitor her playtime to make sure she doesn’t create more...friends. And we’ll get rid of them if she does.”

Aziraphale was still irritated by the incident. “How did she know how to do that?”

“Probably an accident,” Crowley said, then snorted, “Maybe she’ll turn her bath water into wine!” 

“This isn’t funny, Crowley! She could hurt herself.”

The demon fought to straighten out his smile. The angel had a point, but if the kid was already this powerful, it was unlikely she’d let herself be harmed that easily. 

“Maybe we should put her in a pen of some kind,” the angel offered. 

“A pen? She’s not a dog. Besides, if she wanted out of captivity, you know she’d find a way.” 

Lily squirmed and fussed in Crowley’s hold, and he finally set her down. 

“Okay, the pen idea is silly, but what about a lock on the toy chest? For right now at least?” 

Crowley was about to protest, but realized it wasn’t a terrible idea. “Yes, alright then,” he said, snapping his fingers. There was a metallic clicking sound and the toy chest was now chained shut. The toddler gave a futile tug at the lock, then whined in irritation. 

“Sorry, kiddo,” Crowley said, meaning it, “don’t need anymore beasties coming to life at your hands. Least not until you’re older.”

“Which she probably will be, tomorrow,” Aziraphale muttered. “Now, I was in the middle of something. Try not to let her out of your sight again.”

“Five seconds! Five seconds, angel!” 

But he was gone before Crowley could protest further, almost slamming the office door shut in the process. 

——————---------

As the day went on, Crowley occupied the toddler with various games, a coloring book full of cartoon snakes (because Crowley was still Crowley), and gave the tot a peanut butter sandwich to gum on for lunch. As per the angel’s request, he kept any stuffed toys away from Lily, admittedly a little anxious imagining what she might animate next. She hadn’t grown anymore, for which the demon was grateful, and was a fairly contented youngun as long as she was occupied. At almost 3 in the afternoon, Aziraphale still hadn’t left the comfort of his office. Not even for lunch. Crowley would be lying if he said he wasn’t a little perturbed by this behavior. After Lily was put down for a nap, he decided to intrude. 

He entered the room without knocking, and found the angel still sitting in his reading chair, several books open, making copious notes.

“Got her down for a nap. Thought you’d like an update.”

“Good,” he said, not even looking up.

“Learn anything new?”

“Did you know that when Jesus was a child, he brought little clay animals to life?”

Crowley was not at all surprised. “Explains the snake.”

“Besides that, however,” Aziraphale sighed, clapping the book shut, “there doesn’t seem to be much about his younger years. Hasn’t had another growth-spurt, I hope?”

“No. Got a couple teeth, though. I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s talking by the end of the week,” the demon smirked.

“I wouldn’t put it past her,” the angel paused, looking up, “or Her, for that matter. If I could just find a bit more information on all this...”

As Aziraphale picked up another text, Crowley held the cover shut. “Angel, I know what you’re doing. Don’t think I haven’t noticed.”

Aziraphale eyed him innocently, “I don’t have the foggiest idea of what you speak.”

“You’re a being of logic, always have been. If it’s not in a book, you have no clue what to do. Point being, you’re trying to handle this kid logically. It’s not going to work.”

Aziraphale tried to scowl and look angry, but failed miserably. “Is it that obvious?”

“If we had been together this long, and I didn’t know this about you, I’d be a poor excuse for a husband.”

Crowley leaned down and nuzzled the angel’s forehead, petting his hair. 

“I just...I’m no good with children.”

“Bollocks. You were fine with Warlock!”

“When he was older! When he could use words and had a faint sense of logic about him. Besides, even then I didn’t have to mind him all the time.”

“S’pose I did do most of that. The minding bits.” 

“There was a reason I didn’t choose to be his nanny. Why I preferred a more indirect approach to his upbringing.” 

“I guess I did wonder about that. You were a shit gardener.” 

The angel scowled. 

“You were! Miracled everything back to life at least once a week! Surprised Gabriel didn’t send you a strongly worded note about that!” 

“He did, rather,” Aziraphale thought. “Anyway, it’s not as though I don’t feel warmly towards Lily; I do! I mean, I’m an angel. We’re meant to love anything and everything. But there’s a part of me that’s…hesitating.” 

“Hesitating with what?” 

The angel sighed, “Getting attached. Because of who she is, and what might happen to her.” 

“Angel,” Crowley said. “That can’t be helped. It’s, as you like to say, ineffable. What’s going to happen WILL happen, no matter how she’s raised or by whom. I mean, Hell, we thought Warlock was going to destroy earth and we loved him anyway. And truthfully we had very little impact on who he became.” 

“Fair point. I suppose I can try to be more...affectionate.” 

Without warning, Lily shuffled into the room, looking rather sleepy from her nap, and clutching a stuffed rabbit. Fortunately, it looked properly stuffed and not living. 

“I thought we locked-” 

“Melted it. She bloody melted the lock,” Crowley said, a mix of annoyed and amused. 

“Of course she did,” Aziraphale frowned. 

Crowley scooped the child up. “Eh, a bunny’s alright. Won’t hurt nothing.” 

Aziraphale watched the child nervously nonetheless. Seeming flustered by the attention, she shoved one of the bunny’s ears in her mouth. They waited with bated breath, but nothing happened. It was still a toy. “I suppose one plaything won’t hurt. As long as it isn’t venomous or carnivorous.”

“You ever known a rabbit to be carnivorous?” 

“You’d be surprised.” 


End file.
